"We do carry some foreign brands, yes sir. Which were you looking for?"

"Bucannans."

The girl nodded once and reached under the counter pulling out a package
of cigarettes clearly marked with the brand name 'Huffman's Blend'.

"Were these what you wanted, sir?" inquired the salesgirl setting the
package on the counter.

The tall man looked carefully at the package and then picked it up.

"Yes, thank you. These are exactly what I came for."

The girl nodded once again and walked away into the back room.

The man tore open the package of cigarettes. Inside the package was divided
into two sections. One side held a small tape player, the other a miniature
tape and a few small photographs. The man put the tape into the player and
began to look over the photographs.

"Good morning, Mister Phelps," said the voice on the tape. "The men in the
photographs are Colonel Janos Pavoric and Major Gregorish Krarn, two
ruthless Eastern Block top security officials. Recently Krarn captured
Robert Mitchell, one of our key western operatives behind the Iron Curtain.
Krarn knows that Mitchell knows the operating sequence for NATO's conundrum
encryption cipher, and is torturing him to gain those codes. Pavoric has in
his possession a document, stolen from the West, containing the names of our
operatives currently active in Eastern Block nations, encoded using
conundrum. Tomorrow afternoon, Pavoric will fly in from Moscow with the
list and meet with Krarn. If Pavoric succeeds in decoding the list, all of
our agents in the east will be in danger of capture, torture and execution."
Phelps took a breath his face grim.

"Your mission," continued the voice on the tape, "should you decide to
accept it, will be to safeguard the identities of our eastern agents, and
recover or destroy the list of our operatives and prevent Pavoric and Krarn
from getting the decryption cipher codes from Mitchell. As usual, should
you or any member of your IM Force be caught or killed, the Secretary will
disavow any knowledge of your actions.

"Good luck, Jim. This tape will self destruct in five seconds."

Phelps returned the photographs to the cigarette package, closed it and set
it back on the counter.

Exactly five seconds after the end of the message, smoke began to drift out
of the cigarette package as the photographs, the tape player and the taped
message melted into a sticky, unrecognizable mass of burned plastic and
fused metal. By the time the package had finished destroying itself, Jim
Phelps had left the smoke shop, a plan of action already forming in his
mind.

*I* *M* *F*

For so vital and urgent an assignment, there was little doubt in Phelps's
mind which members of the IM Force's team of experts he would call upon.
He looked over the group at the hastily called meeting in his apartment.

Rollin Hand, the talented master of disguise and deception, was frowning as
he looked over a series of large color photographs of Major Krarn.

"It's not a lot to go on, Jim," he said, his voice tinged with doubt.
"If I had more time..."

"Time is the one thing we don't have, Rollin. Can you do it, with just
those and the voice tape?"

"As long as Krarn's aide, Goshovich is out of the way. He's worked
closely with Krarn for years. He could be a problem."

Phelps responded quickly, "Goshovich won't be around to bother you. I
promise."
Rollin smiled and dropped the photographs on the coffee table in front of
him. "It'll be a challenging role."

Jim nodded, encouraged by Rollin's response. "Barney?"

"No problems here, Jim," replied Barney Collier, the IMF's top electrical
and mechanical wizard, with his typical calm. "I have the whole thing
mapped out. It'll be a little tight moving around in that ventilation
system, but I can manage."

"What about you, Willie? You know what you have to do?"

"Yes," said Willie Loomis, the team's top support man and a physical
Hercules.

"That leaves you, Cinnamon," said Phelps. "Your job will be the toughest.
Are you up for it?"

"Oh, I think so," answered Cinnamon Carter, the beautiful, frosty blonde,
who's obvious sex appeal could distract any man's mind from whatever
business was at hand. A sultry smile appeared on her gorgeous face as she
added, "After all, my job's just doing what comes naturally."

*I* *M* *F*

The guards posted in front of the home of the notorious Major Krarn tensed
as the black staff car, followed closely by a military truck pulled to a
stop at the curb. Their challenge to its authority to stop there died in
their throats, however, as the back door of the staff car opened up and
Major Krarn himself climbed out.

The Major ignored the guards astonished faces and instead watched as the
driver of the truck scrambled out of the cab and hurried around behind the
vehicle, where he lifted a large, very heavy looking container from the
back of the truck. Apparently satisfied, Krarn then started up the short
walk to the gate in front of his home.

The senior guard steeled himself and stepped into the Major's path.

"Get out of my way," snapped Krarn.
"Begging the Major's pardon, sir," said the guard quickly, "but we were
not informed that the Major was not at home, sir."

Krarn looked from the first guard to the second, then back to the first.

"You have been on duty here what...? Twenty minutes?"

"Yes, sir," replied the guard.

"Then if you wish to remain on duty here, instead of joining the apparently
incompetent guards on the watch before yours when they assume their new
posts in Siberia, you will get out of my way and let me back into my home!"
Major Krarn's temper was as well known in the ranks as his ruthlessness.
The guard immediately moved aside.

"Much better," growled Krarn moving through the gate. The big truck driver
trailed after him, carting the big container effortlessly. When Krarn
vanished through the front door of his house, the driver followed him in and
the two guards sagged noticeably with relief.

Inside Major Krarn's home, Willie Loomis set the big container down beside
the door.

"So far, so good," said Rollin Hand, in his own voice, rather than the
harsher tones of Major Krarn. "Let's find our package."

Willie nodded and the two men moved upstairs, where the sound of a running
shower could be clearly heard.

Krarn was inside his bedroom, wearing his robe and smoking a cigarette. He
heard a sound at the door and looked up to see a mirror image of himself
standing there. The Major's momentary shock at this sight gave Rollin the
time he needed to cross the room and put Krarn out with a right to the jaw.

Willie picked up Krarn and carried him back downstairs. Rollin opened up
the big container and Willie stuffed Krarn into it. Rollin pulled out a
hypo containing a special knockout drug to make sure that the unconscious
Krarn stayed quiet. Suddenly Rollin frowned. "The shower," he announced,
remembering.

Willie nodded and went back upstairs. Rollin finished injecting Krarn with
the drug, then closed the lid on the container, sealing him inside. He took
a breath. As Willie came back down the stairs, Rollin picked up the
telephone and dialed a special memorized number.

"This is Major Krarn," Rollin barked into the receiver as the party at the
other end of the line answered. "Get me Captain Goshovich. Immediately!"

*I* *M* *F*

Captain Igor Goshovich of the Secret Police flushed the toilet and backed
out of the cramped little bathroom, into the grimy apartment. He looked at
the powerful telescope sitting next to the open window a moment before
returning to his post, observing the American spies in the building across
the street.

Why he had to be here, Goshovich did not know. He had been telephoned this
morning by Major Krarn who had insisted that he personally keep an eye on
these Americans. Though he had not given any reasons, the Major had said
that he suspected these two might be involved some way with Mitchell, the
important spy that Colonel Pavoric was personally coming to interrogate.

The Major had been in no mood to receive any questions as to why Goshovich
needed to do this himself and the grumbling thought that such duties as
this were beneath him was foremost in the captain's mind as he peered into
the eyepiece, once again bringing into focus the interior of the much nicer
apartment were the Americans were staying.

There were two of them -a black man and a very attractive blonde woman.
They had arrived twenty minutes earlier. Without saying a word to each
other the man had undressed and gone to sleep on the bed and the woman had
vanished into the bathroom. Women could be a very long time in bathrooms,
Goshovich knew.

Such trivial thoughts immediately fled from Goshovich's mind, however, as
the blonde woman came out of the bathroom, gloriously naked. Goshovich's
mouth watered as he watched the blonde move across the room and crawl onto
the bed next to the black man. She hovered over him for a moment, then
slowly lowered her head toward the man's groin.

The man awoke suddenly to find the blonde sucking on his cock.

"What... what's going on?" Barney Collier mumbled, his voice tinged with
static as it traveled through the hidden microphone and across the street
to the speaker sitting beside Goshovich.

"What do you think is going on?" said Cinnamon Carter, giving the head of
Barney's giant black dick a playful lick. "Our contact probably won't call
for at least a half hour. That means we have plenty of time for me to
rehearse for my part."

"Rehearse?" smirked Barney. "You need to rehearse for this, like a fish
needs to rehearse how to swim."

Cinnamon only smiled at him and gave his cock another lick. "So?" she
replied simply.

Barney realized that he was rock hard. He fingered her pussy and felt the
juice run into his palm. She was ready, too. He rolled her over, mounted
her, and drove his meat into her hot cunt.

"Fuck me back, you little slut!"

"Yes... ohhhh, yessss," moaned Cinnamon.

Moving his hands under her ass cheeks, taking a firmer grip his strong arms
lifted the weight off her legs.

Tentatively, she raised one leg. Then she threw the other leg up and locked
her ankles. The cock up her belly seemed to grow longer and plant its hot,
jerking tip deeper than ever.

"Now fuck," Barney sighed. His fingers slipped into the open crack of her
ass. One found the rear entry. "Make that sweet pussy bite me," he hissed,
twisting a finger up her rectum. "Sweet, sweet pussy... fuck me, fuck my
cock!" he growled.

"I love it!" Cinnamon managed to sigh, knowing that he was beyond hearing,
beyond caring what she said. But she loved the feel of his big black cock
inside her. Her body felt light, charged with electricity. Her tight
cunthole snapped. Her puckered asshole sucked lovingly on his finger.

"Ohhhh, good cock... good fuck! You 're clear up my fucking throat with
it!" she cried.

Planting his feet wide apart, giving himself more room, more leverage, he
began to hump the length of his rod in and out of her pussy like an animal.
He slammed her fluid ass cheeks against the mattress, grunting with each
lunge. He tried to hurt her, bruise her, and she loved it.

Cinnamon wiggled, fucking him with all her might. mind and body, trying to
bring them both to orgasm. She felt the knob of his mighty cock swell and
jerk in the slippery depths of her sheath and fucked her hips, her cunthole
even faster.

She wrapped her arms tight at his neck. She strained her legs at his waist
and rested her head in the crook at his shoulder while she gyrated her pussy
furiously around on his black meat.

Pulling far back, Barney slammed into her. Sweat broke out on his brow as
his long cock dipped again and again in her hot, juicy hole.

Cinnamon could feel his big hairy balls growing tense with the force of the
cum-load her tight cunt was coaxing from him. The hands on her ass pulled
her close with each forward stab, forcing her unto him. She felt only the
exquisite driving goodness, only the thrust of his prick.

From his vantage point across the street, Goshovich's hand reached down,
opening his zipper to release his painfully bunched cock from his trousers.
He began to slowly jerk himself off as he watched Barney seeking Cinnamon's
moist, parted lips. He watched as their mouths fused, the black man's tongue
beginning to piston in time to his cock and the finger that was fucking her
asshole.

Cinnamon gasped as the hands on her ass cheeks became cruel, steel claws.
Batting her inner cunt muscles on the vibrating shaft, she sucked his tongue
and held her breath in anticipation of the first thick gush of his cream in
her dilated pussy.

It seemed to take forever. Her lungs, she was certain, were going to burst
through her chest and leave her firm, pink-tipped titties shredded. She
worked her ass frantically, bumping, grinding, milking the fat head of his
magnificent black cock.

Goshovich, too, was pumping away, his eye pressed tightly against the glass
eyepiece, his attention entirely focused on the wanton spectacle across the
way.

"Have you got any more?" Cinnamon cried.

"Yeah... right away. Fuck me back!" Barney yelled. Then his cock was again
pumping, spurting another load of his hot jism up her clasping hole.

"Yes, give it to me! Fill me up with it! I'm coming too!" Cinnamon gasped.
Moaning, pinching his waist in the vise of her thighs and kneading his
spitting dick in the tighter, hotter vise of her cunt, she gulped the semen
with her cunt hole. She squealed and made her pussy suck his thick cream.
She felt it glide down the walls of her sheath. Out it came, searing the
puffy pink lips of her pussy, and dripping wet and sticky down the crack of
her ass. She sucked his mouth. She worked her stomach, making it ripple,
making the ripples spread through her sex until her sensitive clit began to
fire the heat, the thrill, and the fireworks of her orgasm.

Then, suddenly, the cock in her belly stopped its fucking. With a long,
loud groan, Barney emptied himself into the blonde's hot, sucking cunt.

In sympathy, Goshovich came too, spurting a sticky white geyser up into the
air. The electric tingles of his orgasm were still running through his
system as he felt the sharp stabbing pain, and a second later, everything
went black as he fell face forward, nearly toppling over the telescope as he
pitched onto the ground.

Jim Phelps pulled the empty hypodermic needle out of Goshovich's back and
returned it to his pocket. The drug he had shot into Goshovich wasn't
fatal, but would leave all the symptoms of a heart attack when Goshovich
recovered in several hours. Phelps pulled out a small walkie-talkie and,
readjusting the telescope, peered through.

"All clear," he said. "Ready to proceed.

In the room across the street, Cinnamon and Barney had collapsed into each
other and laid still. As Phelps' voice came out of the matching
walkie-talkie hidden beside the bed Cinnamon began to giggle.

"I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille," she laughed.

*I* *M* *F*

The truck that pulled up behind the Security Headquarters Building looked
like any of the other military vehicles in the lot. Behind the wheel,
Willie backed the truck up until its back end was pressed against the
building.

As soon as the engine shut off, Barney Collier opened up the secret
compartment hidden in the floor of the truck and climbed out. Immediately
he went to work removing the grill over the large ventilation duct set
into the wall of the building. As soon as the cover was off, he climbed
into the shaft beyond.

Willie fitted the shaft cover back into place and climbed out of the truck.
He went around front and opened the hood. He quickly disconnected some
wires and then started fiddling with things as if trying to fix the vehicle.

*I* *M* *F*

Captain Roshov was a sadistic, cruel man, who delighted in the power of
life and death he held over the prisoners in his charge. Still, even he
came quickly to attention as the ruthless Major Krarn came through the
door, dragging a beautiful, though somewhat disheveled, blonde behind him.

"At ease," snapped the Major, throwing the blonde woman against the side
wall. He spared her a moment for a glance of disgust, then turned his
attention to Roshov. "Our guards at the boarder caught this American whore
trying to smuggle secret papers out to the West. Because of Colonel
Pavoric's visit, I do not have time to properly interrogate her now. But
while I am busy with the Colonel, I want you and your men to soften her up
-if you know what I mean."

Krarn stepped over to the blonde and grabbed her blouse, savagely tearing
it off her.

Roshov and his men gazed appreciatively at the woman's firm, ample breasts,
barely concealed by her lacy bra. "Of course, Major," replied Roshov
eagerly. "I know exactly what you mean."

With a single nod of his head Krarn started back toward the door. "Captain
Roshov," he said sharply, without turning back around, "do not damage her.
I may want to use her myself, before I question her."

"Of course, sir," replied Roshov, as his superior vanished out the door.
In the hallway outside, the man who looked exactly like Major Krarn paused
for only a second before continuing down the hallway to where the captured
Western agent was being kept. Now it was his job to get that man safely
away. For the time being, Rollin thought, Cinnamon was on her own. He had
no doubts that she could more than handle anything the men might throw at
her.

Inside the office, Cinnamon stayed close against the wall, appearing to be
exactly what she was supposed to seem to be -a frightened American female
trapped and alone in an Iron Curtain prison.

"Understand this," said Roshov nastily, as he advanced on Cinnamon, "Major
Krarn thinks nothing of disposing of beautiful women but he does know what
it means not to waste a talented whore. There will be punishment for you,
you blonde haired slut, but it might go easier on you if you behave
yourself."

Roshov grabbed Cinnamon's shiny blonde hair and twisted it around his hand.
Then he placed his other hand on her left shoulder and pushed her down on
the floor.

He pointed to two of the guards in the room with him.

"You and you," he ordered, "come over here and take out your penises."
The two guards walked over, stood in front of the glamorous blonde, and
pulled down their zippers. They each worked their cock out from their
underpants and their organs instantly stiffened as they looked at the
sparkling blue eyes and the golden blonde hair of the woman who was
kneeling before them.

"You sergeant," Roshov told him, " hold the girl in place so that she will
not move."

Immediately, the sergeant complied. He stood behind Cinnamon and held her
by her smooth neck and shoulder.

Captain Roshov pulled down his zipper and took out his own mammoth slab of
masculine meat. His penis stiffened and lengthened until it became an
enormous, pulsating erection.

"All right, men," Roshov instructed, "we shall now all proceed to come all
over this young woman's face and in her mouth. Let us commence at once."
Roshov stepped forward and rammed his bulbous cock head against Cinnamon's
sensual lips. The sergeant squeezed the back of her neck and she opened up
her mouth. Roshov slid his meaty pole into her face and just kept jamming
his cock head deeper and deeper into her throat until his pubic bush buried
the flawless skin of her face and his greasy balls pressed up against her
chin.

One of the guards poked the tip of his hardened organ right into Cinnamon's
right eye and the other guard slid his cock up along the smooth skin of the
left side of her gorgeous face. This guard just kept maneuvering his
erection up and down along her face while he wrapped her shiny, blonde hair
around his huge testicles. The other guard slid his thick tool up along the
woman's forehead and inserted his prick into her golden blonde hair.

continued in part 2...

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